May You Have The Strength
by theoofoof
Summary: When Mr Carson is taken ill, Mrs Hughes takes it upon herself to be his nurse. Slightly AU version of Mr Carson's battle with Spanish Flu. My first fic for Downton Abbey.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Downton Abbey or any of it's characters. I'm just using them for my own pleasure - no money is being made from the publication of this little story.

**A/N:** My first fic for this fandom - I hope I've done it justice.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

Mrs Hughes watched anxiously as Mr Cason lay in the large bed in the Blue Room of Downton Abbey. Upon learning that his esteemed butler was unwell, Lord Grantham had insisted that he be moved into a guest room. Under normal circumstances, Mrs Hughes was sure Mr Carson would have protested at such treatment but at the moment he was far too weak to do so. He now lay, sleeping fitfully, wheezing and covered in sweat, waiting for the doctor.

She touched her palm to his brow. It confirmed her fear that he was running a high temperature. Hurrying, she retrieved some water and a cloth from the nearest bathroom and, upon her return, sat on the bed beside him, gently dabbing his forehead and face in an effort to cool him down. Every so often she would return the cloth to the water for a few moments before resuming her task. She continued to his jawline and then lower to his neck and small amount of chest left bare by the open collar of his pyjamas.

She wondered if he would think it improper. She thought he probably would. But she was strong enough to defend her own reputation and his if it was required. It probably wouldn't be however, as Lord Grantham had been fully supportive of her decision to be Mr Carson's nurse until he was better.

She was still trying to cool him down when Dr Clarkson appeared.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be hear sooner. Lady Grantham has taken a turn for the worst," he explained.

"Will she be okay?" she asked, concerned.

He repeated his words to Lord Grantham from earlier. "If she survives the night, she'll live."

He examined Mr Carson and then questioned Mrs Hughes. "How long has he been like this?"

"Most of the day, but the fever seems to be worsening."

"It does seem to be Spanish flu, and I am concerned about this fever; I'm seeing cases where it's lasting several days and that is not good. We need to break it; get his temperature down. You will need to put out the fire and open the windows. I'd also recommend some ice; pack it around his body; it must remain there even if Mr Carson protests, which he probably will. Are you to nurse him all night?

Mrs Hughes nodded. "I'll ask Anna to arrange for some ice to be sent up from the kitchens. Will you be staying in the house, Doctor Clarkson?"

"I cannot, I'm afraid. I have other patients in the village. There isn't much _I_ can do for either him or Lady Grantham at the moment. When the fever reaches crisis, it will be up to them to fight it and I have every confidence in you and Miss O'Brien to nurse them. I will warn you though, this is a strange disease with sudden and savage changes, but Mr Carson is as stubborn as an ox; if anyone can get through this, he can." The doctor picked up his bag. "I will return as soon as I can."

Mrs Hughes thanked him and saw him to the bedroom door, confident that he could find his own way out of the house. Then she rang for Anna and arranged for her to round up the things that she needed. Anna appeared less than five minutes later, a hall boy in tow carrying ice. Mrs Hughes directed him to place the bucket by the bed, before dismissing him. When he had taken his leave Anna spoke. "I've brought you some things from your own room as well Mrs Hughes; I don't expect you'll be wanting to leave him if you can help it."

Fighting the blush that threatened to creep across her face at Anna's astute observation, she took the pile of her things from her. "Thank you dear. Will you be alright downstairs with both me and Miss O'Brien engaged in nursing duties?"

"Don't you worry Mrs Hughes, we'll be fine. His Lordship understand that there will have to be some catch as catch can in the coming days. You just concentrate on getting Mr Carson well."

With a nod, Mrs Hughes handed over her keys to Anna, pointing out the one to the store cupboard. "Don't let Mrs Patmore have it, no matter what she says."

"I won't Mrs Hughes," she assured.

Once Anna had gone, Mrs Hughes set about treating Mr Carson; she wrapped some ice in spare cloths and placed then along either side of him, before placing another pile on top of him. Then she remoistened the cloth and laid it on his head.

She could already feel the chill from the open windows and lack of fire, so she put on her cardigan and her shawl. She also removed the pins from her hair, letting it fall to her shoulders. _It might help keep the chill of the back of my neck._

Then she sat in the chair to keep an eye on Mr Carson's condition but it wasn't long before the strain of the day caught up with her and she felt her eyelids dropping.

* * *

Mrs Hughes awoke at the sound of a man's voice. She was disoriented for a moment, before her eyes drifted to Mr Carson, and the events of the previous twelve hours came flooding back. She stood to assess his condition, swaying slightly as she did so; her own exhaustion catching up with her. She had not left his side since he had first taken ill and did not intend to do so until she knew he was going to recover.

He was mumbling in his sleep, "Wedding… wine delivery… Moseley…"

"Mr Carson!" He was thrashing around in delirium; trying to kick off the ice-packs in the process. She managed to stop them from spilling to the floor and placed them back securely around him.

He protested. "No... please!" His words were raspy and broken by desperate gasps for breath.

"You must!" She tucked them under his arms. "Doctor's orders."

She checked his forehead; he was burning up terribly and still fighting against the treatment. "You must fight this Mr Carson!" _I don't know what I'd do without you._

Cooling the cloth, she dabbed his forehead once more but it didn't seem to help much. She knew this was the crisis; the highest point of the fever. She'd seen it once before, a long time ago… her sister had been ill with typhoid when they were children. She'd watched her mother nurse her; wishing there was something she could do. Suddenly, her mother's actions filled her mind and she knew what she had to do to help him. Back then the treatment had been to keep the patient as warm as possible, to provoke a crisis and force out the fever, and she remembered her mother gathering her sister into her arms on the bed, securing her blankets around her and sharing her body heat.

This time the treatment was the opposite; keep the patient cool; but the same principles applied. If she lay here with him, with her arm over his chest her weight would secure at least two portions of ice in place and hopefully help to break his fever.

Wrapping herself in a spare blanket for her own warmth, she clambered on to the bed next to him and threw her arm over the ice that lay atop him. She knew it was entirely improper, but she didn't care. _If I don't, he could die! _

He was murmuring again, but she couldn't make out the words, and thrashing from side to side; he was clearly distressed. Dabbing his head with the cool cloth yet again, she began to sooth him in the same way her mother had soothed her sister all those years ago. By singing.

"Gu robh neart na cruinne leat  
'S neart na grèine  
'S neart an tairbh dhuibh  
'S àirde leumas."

As she sang in quiet Gaelic tones, he began to quieten. After what seemed like an age his thrashings stopped and, seeing that he was much calmer and less likely to throw off the ice, Mrs Hughes supposed that she should get up now and lessen the chances of being found lying with him, which she knew would lead to embarrassment despite the circumstances. She decided to give it another tem minutes, just to ensure he didn't relapse but, as she listened to the rattle of his chest, she found herself overcome by the sound, the softness of the bed and the presence of the man she lay with, and she fell quickly to sleep.

* * *

**A/N:** The song that Mrs Hughes sings is _Taladh Dhòmhnaill Ghuirm _which was composed as a lullaby for Donald of Sleat in the late 16th Century. The translation of the verse she sings is:

"May you have the strength of the universe  
And the strength of the sun  
And the strength of the black bull  
Which jumps the highest."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

When Mr Carson awoke the next morning, his first thoughts were that he was warm and comfortable and… not alone. He could feel the weight of someone lying next to him, their arm across his chest. Slowly he tried to move, but he was too weak. He found the strength to open his eyes and soon the room came into focus.

He was in the Blue Room! He recognised it instantly. He knew every room in this house; that was part of his job. The thought that he, a mere servant, should be sleeping in one of the guest rooms was abhorrent to him for a moment, but then he remembered how he'd taken ill. He didn't know why or how he came to be in this bed, but his fogginess cleared enough for him to realise it must be as a result of that.

He found the strength to wiggle his toes and flex his fingers and as he did so, became aware of another's hand on top of his. He shifted his gaze downwards and was surprised to see a very familiar hand. Mrs Hughes. He couldn't think why she could possibly be lying next to him, but the more aware of it he became, the more he found himself enjoying her presence.

The sounds of people moving about outside the door alerted him to the fact that some of the staff were up and about; no doubt setting up for breakfast. As much as he would have preferred to lie with Mrs Hughes for longer he could not risk her being found like this; she had an unsullied reputation and he wished it to remain so. Neither did he wish her to know he was aware of her actions, not yet. He would tell her at some point, but at the moment he didn't really feel up to dealing with the fallout, whether that be positive or negative.

He closed his eyes once more, feigning sleep, and then shifted on the bed with a groan. It did the trick; Mrs Hughes woke suddenly and hearing voices outside the room, sat back in her chair, pinned back her hair and picked up a book… seconds before there was a knock at the door.

Anna entered. "Doctor Clarkson is here; he'll be up in a moment. He's with her Ladyship just now."

"How is she?"

"She's not out of the woods yet, but she made it through the night, that's something."

Mrs Hughes nodded gravely and Anna took her leave. Checking once more on Mr Carson, she was relieved to find his temperature felt as if it were within a more acceptable range. _Thank goodness!_

At the feel of her hand Mr Carson cold keep up the pretence of sleep no more. He opened his eyes.

"Mr Carson," she cried, joy filling her at the sight of him awake.

"Mrs Hughes," he replied, his voice hoarse. She helped him to sit up a little, against his protest that he could manage by himself, and poured him a glass of water.

"This should help," she told him, handing him the glass.

"Thank you."

"How are you feeling?"

"Tired, a little confused. "

"That's to be expected. Doctor Clarkson will be up to check on you in a few moments."

"I… this is a little delicate but… the sheets seem… damp." He looked away, embarrassed that the thought that his body may have betrayed him during his illness.

"That'll be the ice. We packed you with it to try and bring down your temperature. You didn't like it, I can tell you; tried to throw the stuff off several times. No doubt it's melted now."

He was relieved to have kept his dignity to some degree, and was beginning to understand why he had woken to find Mrs Hughes sharing his bed. _She must have been trying to keep the ice in place_. "How… how did I end up in here?" he asked

So Mrs Hughes filled him in on the events of the past day, leaving out the part of her joining him in bed, assuring herself that he didn't need to know the lengths she had gone to. He was concerned for Lady Grantham and the other two maids who had fallen ill, but she assured him they were being taken care of, just as he was.

"Have you been here all night?" he asked, despite already having deep suspicions.

She blushed, and then cursed herself for it; she wasn't a school girl. "You needed someone to take care of you and well… I didn't feel comfortable ordering any of the maids or footman. You were in quite a bad way, Mr Carson, I… I didn't think you would wish them to see you like that." There was more to it than that, of course, but she didn't think she was ready to reveal that to him just yet.

"No, I think I probably wouldn't," he agreed.

Their conversation was interrupted then by the arrival of Doctor Clarkson, and Mrs Hughes excused herself to see Mrs Patmore about food for herself and Mr Carson.

The doctor examined him thoroughly, checking his chest, his pulse and his fever.

"You are much improved since I last saw you," Doctor Clarkson informed him. "Mrs Hughes would appear to be an excellent nurse."

"It would seem so," Mr Clarkson agreed, not wanting to give too much away.

"You need to rest though; I don't want you returning to work for at least a week."

"The house won't run itself!"

"No, but they'll manage. If you don't heed my advice Mr Carson, you may have a relapse, and that could be worse than this current episode." Mr Carson looked like he was going to argue but Doctor Clarkson cut him off. "Can you be trusted to rest by yourself or do I need to inform Mrs Hughes of my advice? I'm sure, given her diligence through the night, that she will ensure you do as I have said."

"That will not be necessary Doctor. I will... adhere to your recommendations; although I doubt it will be easy."

They both turned as the door opened. "Ah, Mrs Hughes. We were just discussing your potential as a nurse," Doctor Clarkson told her.

She placed the breakfast tray she was carrying on the cabinet and turned to the Doctor. "I think I'm a little too old to be contemplating a career change, Doctor Clarkson, but I thank you for the praise. I'm just glad Mr Carson seems to be over the worst."

"I'll leave some medicine and dosage instructions; will you be able to administer it?"

"Of course."

Doctor Clarkson excused himself and Mrs Hughes transferred the tray to Mr Carson's bed. "You should eat, if you feel up to it?"

"Perhaps I will try a piece of toast." Mrs Hughes buttered him a slice and handed it to him. He took a small bite before allowing himself to address the business of the house. "It appears I may be out of action for a few days, will you be able to manage the house?"

"I will be fine; I can always come and bother you if I need to." He brightened a bit at the thought and she noticed. "As long as you don't overdo it."

"There is the wedding to think about and-"

Mrs Hughes cut him off. "I'm afraid Miss Swire has been taken ill too; I fear the wedding will have to be postponed now."

Whilst they continued eating, they discussed the possible implications for postponing the wedding and, when they'd exhausted that topic, their conversation turned to the weather; how mild it was for this time of year . He finished before her and she was halfway through her cup of tea when she noticed him stifle a yawn. Replacing her cup on the tray, she fell back into her role as nurse. "Time for you to get some rest I think."

He didn't particularly want to go to sleep; wanting instead to continue their conversation, but he admitted that he did feel weary. He lowered himself back onto the pillows.

"Close your eyes and I'll come back and check on you in a few hours."

"Mmm," he mumbled sleepily.

When Mrs Hughes was certain he was sound asleep, she leaned forward, brushed his hair of his forehead and placed a chaste kiss upon it before leaving to get on with her day.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"Are you feeling more yourself?" Mrs Hughes asked as she gave her patient his medicine that evening.

"A bit," he admitted before turning a little sombre. "I still can't get over it." The news of Miss Swire's death had broken several hours earlier and it had shaken the entire household.

"I'll hope you won't pretend you liked her now," Mrs Hughes told him, raising her eyebrow at him.

"I didn't want her here Mrs Hughes, I'll admit, but I had no objection to her being happy somewhere else."

"She didn't deserve to die," Mrs Hughes agreed.

They both turned thoughtful. It had hit home for both of them how lucky Mr Carson had been to come through it.

"I wanted to say thank you, Mrs Hughes, for taking care of me."

"Your thanks aren't really necessary," she told him.

"I disagree."

"Your disagreeing with me? Well I'd say you were definitely feeling more yourself," she teased.

He allowed himself a small smile at her teasing. "You shouldn't tease. I am extremely grateful. You have gone above and beyond the call of duty to see me well."

"I don't see it as a duty Mr Carson. You and I are friends, are we not?"

He smiled. "We are that… and as such, I think I would like it if you called me Charles." She didn't reply at first; caught off guard by his request. She felt a blush rise in her cheeks. As the silence lengthens, he felt the need to fill it; to justify his request. "Only when we are alone…" She raised an eyebrow at this; teasing him. It is he who blushed then. "What I mean is when there are no other members of staff present… I'm not implying that we should be alone in any way that is improper." _Not that I wouldn't like to be alone with you more._

"I know. I think I would like that Charles…" she replied, trying out his name cautiously. _It will certainly take some getting used to! _"Can I ask what's brought this on?"

"The way you have cared for me… I think you have earned the right to use my Christian name. In fact, I think I insist on it."

That wasn't the real reason, merely an excuse. The truth was that he had had a lot of time to think while he had been cooped up in this room. Ever since he was forced to face the prospect of his leaving Downton to accompany Lady Mary to Haxby Park, things had been different between Mrs Hughes and himself. Something had shifted.

She had said she would miss him; and that had led him to wonder what it would be like without her in his life. When he thought of not working with her, not seeing her every day, he had been quite startled by his feelings on the matter. He realised that he would miss her too. Terribly. The more he pondered this, the clearer things became. He discovered, much to his astonishment that he, Charles Carson, was very much in love with Elsie Hughes.

Once he had discerned his true feelings, he had endeavoured to find out if there was any chance that they would be returned but he hadn't had any luck. Mrs Hughes was a hard woman to read. Until now. He had spoken to Anna earlier and she had been very eager, to inform him about Mrs Hughes' devotion during his illness. He had protested at first, for fear of embarrassment but, Anna had persisted and on reflection he was glad she had. Hearing how Mrs Hughes had refused to leave his side, had spurred him on to make a decision. Asking her to use his Christian name was him taking the first tentative step to advance their relationship. He was 'testing the water', so to speak.

Seemingly satisfied with his initial answer, Mrs Hughes replied, "In that case I must insist that you call me Elsie."

"Are you quite sure?"

"Certainly. It would hardly be fair that I call you Charles, yet you still refer to me as Mrs Hughes."

"No, I suppose not," he agrees. "Elsie," he murmurs with a smile.

They conversed for a few more moments, about trivial things, both revelling in the new found intimacy; the use of each other's first names, before Anna interrupted them with a request from Lady Crawley.

She left after relaying the message from her Ladyship allowing Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes to say their goodbyes in private. She placed her hand over his larger one, and squeezed it gently. "I'll pop back and check on you once I've locked up. Do try and get some rest… Charles."

In the corridor, Mrs Hughes had to take a moment to compose herself. The relief she felt that Mr Carson was recovering combined with the recent development between them, had both overjoyed and terrified her.

After a few minutes, she chided herself. _Stop acting like a foolish girl! Nothing's really changed. _But that was the problem, nothing much had changed, but on the other hand everything had.

* * *

A week the following Sunday, nine days after becoming unwell, Mr Carson ventured downstairs once again. He knocked lightly on Mrs Hughes' pantry door and entered, closing the door behind him. As he hoped, he found her getting ready to leave for church; fixing her hat and scarf.

Seeing him through the mirror, her face broke out into a smile. "Charles, you're up!"

"I am and I would very much like it if you would allow me to accompany you to church this morning." He offered her his arm and she took it, a slight blush colouring her cheeks.

"Are you sure you're feeling quite up to this?" she checked.

"Quite sure."

"Very well. Lead on Charles."

They walked a few steps behind the rest of the staff, all of whom had been glad to see Mr Carson up and about again. When they arrived at church they sat next to each other in the pew as usual, but this week they sat that little bit closer, sharing copies of the hymn and prayer books. They weren't close enough that it could be deemed improper, but there was a noticeable difference.

During they prayers they prayed silently, both thanking God for the other. Mr Cason, thankful that Mrs Hughes had shown such care and devotion to him, and Mrs Hughes, thankful that Mr Carson made a good recovery.

After the service, whilst Mrs Hughes was talking to the rector, Mr Carson spoke quietly with Anna. "Would you be able to oversee the house for the next hour or so?"

"Of course Mr Carson. Is there anything the matter?"

"No, not at all. I would merely like to take Mrs Hughes on a short walk; to thank her for the care she provided whilst I was ill."

Anna smiled knowingly. "I think that's a lovely idea."

"We'll be back before the family take luncheon."

"I'd expect no less," she replied with a grin.

As Anna and the others began to walk down the path through the church yard, Mr Carson joined Mrs Hughes and Rev. Edmondson. The vicar was pleased to see that Mr Carson was recovered enough to attend church and wished him well. When their conversation was over, and Rev. Edmondson returned into the church, Mrs Hughes was startled to see that they were the only two people left in the churchyard.

"Oh my, it seems we've talked for rather a long time. We must get back."

"Before we do… Elsie, would you care to take a walk with me?"

"But what about the house?"

"I have asked Anna to keep an eye on things for a short time," he informed her. "Please Elsie, there is something I wish to talk to you about." Once again her offered his arm.

"My, that does sound intriguing. Go on then, but not too long a walk mind; I've things to be getting on with and you shouldn't be overdoing it."

They walked from the church, through the village, down to the small brook that ran alongside the village. They stopped at a bench and Mr Carson sat, motioning for her to join him. She sat down next to him, pulling her shawl around her shoulders.

"Are you cold?" he asked.

"No, not really. There was just a slight breeze. How are you feeling? Really?"

"I'm much better. I'll be returning to my duties tomorrow as agreed."

"You will rest if it gets too much for you, won't you?"

"Don't worry Elsie. I'll be fine. I am fully recovered. And now that I am, I would very much like it if… that is… I was wondering if… I mean to say…" He clenched his fist; annoyed that he couldn't find the right words.

"Charles, what is it?"

He took a deep breath. "Would you allow me to court you?"

"I…I'd like that. Very much." She grasped his hand and he let out a breath he didn't even realise he was holding. He turned his hand over underneath hers, so their palms were touching, and interlaced their fingers.

"I have to admit though," Mr Carson admitted, "I'm not entirely sure how people of our age would go about courting. I fear we are a little old to 'walk out' together."

"Speak for yourself," she teased, with a giggle.

"I like it when you laugh; you don't do it enough."

"Well I shall endeavour to do it more."

"And I shall endeavour to help."

"As much as I hate to admit it, I do see your point about walking out." She paused for a moment considering. "What if we made up our own code of behaviour. I'm sure we can decide what is proper and what is not. We have enough experience, do we not?"

"That we do."

She glanced down at their clasped hands and gave his a gentle squeeze. "Would this be acceptable do you think?"

He tightened his grip. "I don't see why not."

With her other hand she reached up and stroked his cheek. "And this?"

He swallowed and she wondered for a moment if she'd pushed too far too quickly, if she'd been too forward. But he surprised her, turning his head and placing a kiss on her gloved palm. Sitting there with her, he couldn't remember ever feeling so contented. He mirrored her actions, cupping her face with his free hand, and leant towards her. Their faces were less than half an inch apart and as she spoke she could feel his breath skirt over her lips.

"I may be pushing the boundaries of propriety here Elsie, but I find that I can't seem to help myself. You must tell me if you find it inappropriate."

"Well you haven't really done anything yet Charles, but I'll be sure to bear that in mind. However, as we're making up our own rules, I think you would be on safe ground if you were to…" she swallowed, "kiss me."

Her consent given, he closed the gap between them, touching her lips with his own. She offered no resistance, so he deepened the kiss, pouring the depth of his love into his every move. His hand left hers and moved to her waist.

After a few moments she pulled away from his kiss, resting her forehead against his while trying to catch her breath. "I think we should stop now, or we _will _be pushing the boundaries of propriety."

"Yes, yes of course." He cleared his throat. "I apologise."

"You don't need to. I was quite enjoying it, I just don't think here, now is the best idea."

He smiled at her. "Right as always. My Elsie."

He stood, holding out his hand for her. She took it and allowed him to help her to his feet. She expected him to drop her hand once they began walking but he didn't. He held it until they neared the Abbey where, by mutual agreement to avoid becoming the subject of gossip, they parted. But not before Mr Carson had pulled her behind a large tree to kiss her goodbye. She was quite breathless when he pulled away and wondered if her somewhat wobbly knees would carry her back to the house.

Thankfully, they did and both she and Mr Carson made it safely into their respective pantries, filled with joy at the new path they were now travelling together.

_Fin_

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**A/N:** Okay, I suck at endings, so I apologise if it seems a little lame. I imagine that I could probably have taken this fic much further but I'm so new to the fandom I feel like I need more time to get inside the world and the characters before I embark upon what I feel would be a rather lengthy project. Who know… I may possibly return to this at some point in the future. Never say never and all that jazz. But for now their story is finished… I shall leave it to you to imagine the rest, so long as you promise you'll give them a happy ending.

Thank you for all your comments/favourites. I appreciate them more than I can say. Please do leave one last review if you are able.


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